A Riddle on new years eve
by witchinhiding
Summary: A Dark haired boy marched proudly down the streets of Little Hangleton, the sludgy mess of snow beneath him, failing to leave a mark on his enchanted boots. Smiling wickedly to himself he stroked his wand in anticipation. Tome Riddle celebrates his birthday by giving himself the greatest gift of all.


A/N: I apologise for any grammatical errors, I will replace it with a betad version asap. :/ I hope you enjoy the story though!

A Riddle On New Years Eve

A Dark haired boy marched proudly down the streets of Little Hangleton, the sludgy mess of snow beneath him, failing to leave a mark on his enchanted boots. Smiling wickedly to himself he stroked his wand in anticipation, barely containing the excitement and rush he felt within himself.

At that moment he heard a faint roar of laughter, coming from one of the many uniform red brick houses to his right. Spotting the source of disruption, he squinted through the open window to spot a group of middle aged people, and several children, laughing and joking loudly. He supposed they were a 'family' and the several people must have travelled from afar to see them (It wasn't as though they could all fit in that hovel) He supposed that he was also on a 'family' trip. Although it was not New Years he was celebrating – it was his birthday, and he had come to collect his gift.

The large Manor house towered over him, looking down on the street before it, a single window filled with the dim glow of a desk lamp.

Tom knew his father was alone, he had done a lot of research before deciding on the trip and was pleased to discover his fathers parents were deceased, and due to his fathers disgraceful history with a 'tramp' it was unlikely that he would have company that night.

With a flourish of his wand, Tom passed effortlessly through the iron gate as though it were nothing but smoke, and proceeded towards the entrance.

"Alohamora" he murmured and pushed gently against the dark green polished door, watching as it swung uselessly inwards. Muggles had never been good with security. And his father should know that by now, having his fair share of encounters with a certain crazed witch, but that of course was the purpose of his visit. He was there to prune any dead branches from his family tree, and Mr. Riddle was such a branch – after all it would be Tom's first kill, and it had to be special – what better day was there than the exact date of his birthday, 31st December, 11:59pm. It was always hard to please Tom, and to find the perfect present for his 16th birthday was something he did not expect from his friends. They had all made a miserable effort, failing desperately to present something anywhere near acceptable, so as a constellation, Tom decided to give himself a gift, and this seemed perfect.

Upon arriving at the study door, his lip curled up into what could just about be counted as a smile, and slowly made a circular motion on the brass door knob. It turned without resistance and creaked upon, revealing a surprised looking middle aged man, worry pricking his eyes.

For a 100th of a second both men froze, shacked at the image they saw before them, how like each other they looked. Mr. Riddle thought that the boy before him was a ghost, a younger version of himself, to taunt him of his weakened state and rapidly deteriorating good looks, to remind him of his decisions and loneliness, the disastrous life he had lead after the tender age of 16. However Tom was just as surprised at the resemblance they shared – the arch of the high cheek bones, the sharpness of the jaw, the deep mahogany colour in his eyes. This man, this muggle had dirty blood, he even looked like a muggle, he tarnished Toms reputation, the disjunction and dragging weight that stood in his path to greatness was now at his mercy. Raising his head he slowly proceeded forward, his face was serene and composed, but a dark look in his eyes set Mr. Riddle in tremors.

"Wh-who are you?" asked the man, now panicking. "W-w-what do you want from me?"

"Now now, that's no way to treat your long lost son." Smirked Tom

"M-my son?" asked Mr. Riddle incredulously.

"I've come to collect my birthday present." Tom replied

"What?" Asked Mr. Riddle in panic and confusion.

"Ah Ah Ah! Not yet, it's not time." scolded Tom. A faint roar of voices was heard as the village began to count down. "10, 9, 8" Tom smiled and joined in, "7, 6, 5," He raised his wand and curled his lip into a sneer, "4, 3, 2, AVADAKADAVRA!"


End file.
